


Safe

by StarTravel



Series: Defiance Through Tenderness [22]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Drunkenness, Lack of Communication, Lashing Out, POV Elim Garak, Post-Break Up, Unreliable Narrator, s6e06 Sacrifice Of Angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 08:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17362436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Garak attempts to cope with the loss of Ziyal while also keeping Julian at arm’s length, never mind the bitter taste in his own mouth.





	Safe

Garak comes back to the station to another slap in the face, Torah Ziyal already lying dead in the infirmary. Garak feels sick over it, hands cold and shaking as he stares down at her and listens but doesn’t hear Kira’s attempts to comfort him. He never returned Ziyal’s romantic feelings, but he was fond of her. For someone so kind and genuine to survive in the conditions she had and come from someone like Dukat was special and in need of protection.

 So Garak watched over her and taught her as much as he could about the beauty of Cardassia, the poetry and art and the scientific revelations they made, of the pure loyalty some were capable of showing to the state and to their families. He was not going to let her only perspective be that of her father’s and men who hated her. He even considered playing matchmaker for her like he’d attempted with Odo, to push her and Jake Sisko towards each other. Now it’s all for naught.

 Garak wants to do many things. He wants to find whoever did it and slowly poison them. He wants to cry. He wants to find Julian and fuck him - or be fucked, whichever seems better in the moment - until he forgets his own name. He wants to surgically put the wire back in his brain so his chest stops hurting with regrets for a life cut far too short.

 But since all of those are off the table for a moment, he instead convinces Quark to give him four bottles of kanar to take back to his quarters. Then he tries to drink until he doesn’t remember the sight of Ziyal in the sickbay.

 Garak’s about ¾’s if the way through this plan when he hears the chime of his door. He lets out a tired sigh, the doors sliding open long before Garak thinks to refuse whoever’s out there. He’s somehow both surprised and expecting it to be Julian. He crosses the entryway, hazel eyes wet and filled with a concern Garak doesn’t deserve. Garak holds his bottle of kanar, angle slightly crooked as he gives Julian his most welcoming grin, wide to the point it almost hurts. “Doctor, what are you doing here so late?”

 “I heard about Ziyal.” Julian’s answers plainly as he comes to stand by his side, swallowing a bit as he meets Garak’s gaze. Garak tries to bury the emotion building in the pit in his stomach, the desire to let Julian wrap his arms around him and hold him and whisper comforting lies into his hair. Garak turns around suddenly, gaze locking on the barren grey walls of his room instead of Julian. Garak feels a hand reach up and grasp his shoulder and can’t quite bring himself to push it away.

 “Of course. I’m sure you had to do the autopsy.” Garak‘s words are clipped as he keeps his gaze on the wall. The alcohol is starting to make Garak’s resolve waver, but he forces himself to square his shoulders and make his voice come out as cold and dismissive. “That doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

 Julian squeezes his shoulder, thumb brushing along the scales on the edge of his neck. Garak can feel Julian’s warm breath against his cheek, hear the softness of his voice. “I thought -”

 “That you could come in here and fix me? Save me from my pain with the sweet taste of your mouth?” Garak snaps as he turns around suddenly, knocking Julian’s hands off of his shoulders, just careful enough so Julian doesn’t stumble backwards. Garak’s words are sharp and biting, a veil of anger coming over him as he paces the small space between Julian and his couch. Garak finally stops next to his end table, hand gripping the side of it and voice coming out more tired than he expects. “I’m sorry, doctor, but I fear I’m not as easily cured as you.”

 Julian walks over to his side slowly, keeping his hands out in front of him. Julian furrows his brow and lets out a low exhale as he takes in the empty kanar bottles across his end table. Julian reaches his right hand out and grasps the only bottle with any kanar left in it. Garak narrows his gaze as he tries to grab the bottle out of Julian’s hand, only for Julian to dart out of his reach and towards the replicator. “I think you’ve had enough of that.”

 Garak glares at him, gaze cold or at least attempting for it as he watches Julian set the bottle down, the rich pink reflected in the sheen of the white metal of the replicator. Then it vanishes into nothing,  just like everything else in Garak’s tragicomedy of a life.

 Julian turns back to him with a careful smile that’s slight and crooked, gaze painfully tender. Garak reminds himself that he can’t let Julian stay, has to protect him from all the things that brought Garak here. Better to push him away than to watch him slowly come apart piece by piece. but he’s too drunk for clever words to come to his mouth, the first insult that comes to mind spilling out sloppily instead. “Sanctimonious.”

 “Yes, yes, and smug and annoying and all those other things you and Miles call me when you’re angry.” Julian waves his hand dismissively through the air, a warm amusement filling his voice for a moment. Julian crosses the room until he’s by Garak’s side again, looping his arm through Garak’s and pressing up against him.

 “You shouldn’t be here. You were jealous.” Garak tries this time in a drunken slur, glaring at Julian with as much venom as he can manage. Julian starts carefully walking him toward his bedroom door, humming softly in a way Garak shouldn’t find as comforting as he does.

 Julian doesn’t respond to him until they’re next to his bed, his free hand coming to rest against the side of his neck again. Julian’s gaze is attentive and circumspect, tone gentle and just a touch contrite. “I know how much you cared for Ziyal.”

 “Of course you were. She was everything you _wanted_ to be.” Garak carries on as though Julian didn’t speak, voice growing harsher on each word, until he’s almost spitting in Julian’s face. His voice is shakier than he’d like, but all he can focus on right now is his own hurt and hurting Julian enough to keep him and Cardassia both safe. “ _Genuinely_ compassionate and thoughtful and talented, beloved by everyone around her. It must have hurt to be reminded no one loved you like that when we all came to care for her so quickly.”

 Julian flinches for one brief moment, a hurt Garak doesn’t expect flashing across his eyes. He expects shock or affront, for Julian to storm out and leave him to his grief. What Garak gets is a look resigned acceptance and a rueful smile as Julian gently presses down on his shoulders. “Lie down, Garak.”

 Garak knows he should fight Julian on this, find more cruel words and comparisons to push Julian away. Garak thinks he’d leave if he brought up Khan, knows that would break Julian down as quickly as any sweet compliment or show of trust builds him up. But he can’t quite get the name to slide from his lips as he reclines back on the bed. Julian lies down next to him after a moment and Garak gives in to the urge to pull him to his chest, to let Julian nuzzle his side and whisper sweet lies.

 Tain was right. He’s always been too weak.

 Garak wakes up to the feel of warm hands on his face, chapped lips pressing against his forehead for a moment. Garak opens his eyes and winces at the soft light of his bedroom, vision slowly clearing until he can Julian’s warm gaze. “I have to go to my shift.”

 Garak nods slowly as he twists around so he’s lying on his side. Garak watches Julian walk across the room, the slim line of the back muscles and the way his hair is starting to dip towards the edge of the collar. Garak lets out a low sigh and lies back on his bed and thinks about the curve of Julian’s smile. Then he changes the access codes on his door.

 Julian asks him to lunch a few times after that, sends him short messages checking in or asking if he needs anything. Garak ignores each and every one and studiously avoids the infirmary and the replimat. He even pretends not to notice when he feels Julian’s gaze following him down the halls or outside of his store.

 The messages stop coming after ten days. Garak feels a bit miffed, because he kept seeking Julian out for _weeks_ when he started avoiding him after the incident in the holosuite. Julian could’ve at least managed two. Then Garak reminds himself that this is what he wanted and tries to focus all his attention on hemming dresses and solving codes.

 For two weeks this careful pattern works, Garak able to put Julian out of his head enough that the pain is a dull ache and not a burning sting. Garak won’t forget the moments they shared on The Defiant or Risa, the way Julian smiles lazily after a long kiss or how his hands slide across his back when he gives him a careful massage, the way his voice fills with delight when he explains a theory Garak doesn’t understand half of. But the emotions will fade over time, the tenderness and the hope that there could’ve been some salvation or care there.

 Then Garak falls off of the heated rock in his sauna program, his entire body weight landing on his right wrist. He can’t avoid the infirmary or Julian then. Garak wishes the reason could’ve been a little less humiliating.

 Julian takes him over to one of the sick beds, manner swift and professional as he wordlessly picks up his tools. Garak holds a breath for a few beats, watching the strain in Julian’s neck build second by second, body curling in on itself. The words slide out of his mouth before he can decide if it’s a good idea to speak or not. “Doctor. I’m sorry.”

 “About breaking your wrist in a Cardassian sauna program? I have to admit that is unusually clumsy for you, but it’s nothing to be _sorry_ for.” Julian lets out a rough laugh as he leans over and presses his instrument against Garak’s bruised wrist with a gentleness that doesn’t match the harshness of his words.

 Garak reaches his right hand up and brushes it against Julian’s elbow. Julian glances up at him then, looking up at him through his eyelashes the same way he’s seen him in bed or on his knees, gaze so overcome with affection for a moment that Garak almost can’t breathe. Then it turns to ash, Julian’s gaze dropping back to his hand. Garak wonders if he’s already done the unbearably cruel thing he was trying to avoid. “That’s not what I mean.”

 “I know, but I don’t want to talk about what you mean, so I’m ignoring it.” Julian’s voice is clipped, gaze locked onto Garak’s wrist as a warm heat engulfs it. Garak supposes that he should be thankful Julian’s focused on healing that and not Garak trying to push them into a new space.

 “Julian.” Garak says when Julian sets his tools aside, the pain in his wrist erased. His voice is quiet and still and he lays his hands flat on either side of himself on the bed. Garak resists the urge to reach out to grasp his elbow or to try riling him up, to reset things to before Risa and the Defiant and even the moment in the holosuite when Julian shot him.

 Julian swallows tightly as he slowly looks up to meet his gaze, a look of betrayal coming into his eyes. Julian presses his own hands against the side of the table, hands digging into the metal until his knuckles start to turn white. His voice is firm when he speaks. “Don’t. Not yet.”

 “You stopped asking me to lunch.” Garak says even though he knows he has no real right to, that it’s not fair. Fair’s never been what Garak’s concerned with. Julian lets out another laugh, brittle and rough as he takes a few steps back from the table, shaking his hands out in the air in front of him. Garak watches as Julian slowly pushes whatever he’s feeling now down, his mask of smug pleasantness coming back over his face.

 “Unlike some people, I can figure out when I’m not wanted. Eventually.” Julian answers back with a hint of a smirk, a teasing lilt to his voice that’s just a touch too synthetic to be familiar. Julian turns around and starts carefully rearranging the tools hanging down in front of him, moving each bottle to a new place in some kind of peculiar pattern.

 Garak stands up from the bed and takes a few steps forward until he’s standing behind Julian, keeping a few feet between them. Julian stills and drops the bottle he’s holding, arms coming down to rest at his sides and balling his hands into fists. “Doctor, I’m not trying to make things difficult.”

 “I’ve finally found something you’re not good at, who would’ve thought.” Julian snaps as he pivots around on his right ankle, smirk vicious and gaze bitter and resigned at the same. Julian takes a few deep breaths, some of the bitterness going out of his eyes, though there’s still an edge to his voice when he speaks, a biting quality. “I’m sorry, Garak, neither am I. But you could’ve been a little more clear if are time on the Defiant was merely a fling for you.”

 “A fling?” Garak can’t hide his confusion, rushes pressing together as he tilts his head to the right. Garak supposes his behavior could be read as flinging Julian from one emotion to the next, but like most human idioms, it feels a bit melodramatic.

 “Casual sex and comfort for a short period of time. I thought - I suppose I made a lot of assumptions too, though. I should have asked.” Julian’s voice comes out sheepish, gaze dropping to the white tiles of the floor, lips curling into a smile that manages to be a grimace at the same time.  

 Garak stares at Julian for a moment, gaze curious and steady while Julian keeps counting tiles. They both know that Garak has never done anything casual in his life, each move carefully calculated no matter how impulsive it might seem on the surface. Garak wonders what Julian thinks his plan was here, what the steps were that led them to his moment. He wonders if it’s a better truth than his own. He supposes Julian deserves that much. “Thank you for helping me with my wrist, Doctor.”

 “Garak, I thought we might have lunch tomorrow, if you have time.” Julian tells him quietly, a touch of nerves in his voice even as he meets Garak’s eyes with a shocking amount of confidence. Thousands of questions cross Garak’s minds, all the different possibilities for why Julian would want to resume any kind of connection with him after that night. Then he sees the determination in Julian’s gaze, the set of his shoulders and he understands. Julian is trying to get over him.

 Garak knows that should make him happy, even if there’s a touch of bittersweetness at the loss of an infatuation that’s been a boon to his pride over the past few years. Instead Garak feels a hollowness in his stomach, smile stiff as he carefully pushes his eye ridges together. “I’m sorry my dear, but I’m going to be busy with Ensign Howell’s wedding dress. She is quite particular.”

 “Oh, of course. Maybe later in the week.” Julian’s voice is strained, expression growing pinched even as he tries to grin at Garak like this all means nothing to him. Maybe if Garak gives him enough space eventually that will be true.

 “Maybe.” Garak murmurs in a low voice as he walks towards the doors. Garak knows that he’ll find a way to keep himself busy until that determination goes out of Julian’s gaze and the hollowness out of his own chest. Maybe then they can go back to being acquaintances sharing the occasional lunch. That’s the only way Garak can keep Julian safe.

 Or at least that’s what he thinks until Julian decides to surrender to the Dominion.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you think anything else needs to be tagged. 
> 
> Questions? Comments?


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